Dirty Laundry
by x Sarizar
Summary: Tifa doesn't really mind the laundry piling up. Oneshot. [VinTi]


Tifa prodded the large pile of assorted materials with her foot, deciding that perhaps it was finally time to do some laundry.

There were four piles: colours, whites, jeans, and bed sheets. She grinned at the last pile. She should do those first or there would be no clean sheets left. That would be quite a shame. She placed her hands akimbo. Most of these clothes weren't even hers.

She huffed, a frown creasing her brow. She couldn't make Marlene and Denzel do their laundry, but she could certainly make Vincent do his.

Oh, well. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between the two of them. She would wake up and cook breakfast for the four of them, then she would pack the kids lunches and shoo them off for school a few blocks away. He would read out some of the interesting things he had found in the newspaper and she would continue to manage Cloud's business (that Vincent noticed he never thanked her for). He would make the both of them lunch and then clean up afterwards while Tifa (occasionally) did the laundry.

Between then and when the children were let out of school, there were a few hours of dead space.

This just so happened to be only the beginning of the three long hours with nothing to do. Realizing that she was simply standing and looking dumbly at the material, she quickly scooped up the sheets and shoved them into the washing machine (it took her two trips from pile to washer).

As soon as said task was completed, she wandered out into the bar area.

There he was. Standing at the sink with soapy water up to his elbows and looking as scrumptious as ever, of course. She never thought she would live to see the day Vincent Valentine would be as domesticate as he was. He had removed his gauntlet shortly after their fight with Sephiroth and the other three clones. He was even dressed in somewhat normal clothing. She had finally coaxed him out of wearing that same red and black outfit all the time. Though she knew she would never ever see him in something like jeans, but the black dress slacks and matching dress shirt certainly served him well. The sleeves were rolled up to his upper arms, showing the many scars littering his arms. Tifa didn't mind, though. She had seen every last one of them.

She sidled up behind him, wrapping her arms around his slender waist. His hair tickled the side of her face. He had cut it the same way it had been when he was a Turk (or so he had told her. She had never actually seen any pictures of said haircut), and it suited him well. He never quit washing the dishes, drawing a frustrated sigh from the barmaid behind him. There was something wrong with him, today.

"What should we do this afternoon?" She asked, hoping she could draw him out of his dreary mood. She had asked the same question yesterday and the day before that. She would undoubtedly ask it tomorrow and the next day; the next week.

Vincent's answer would always differ. Though, they would generally end up doing the same thing (to neither of their disappointments).

"Perhaps you could go read a good book." There was no teasing tone present in his voice as there usually was when he gave an answer like that. He event as far as to take his hands from the skin and pull her arms off his waist.

He went right back to running some water over the soapy dishes to rinse them off, pretending as if nothing had even happened.

Tifa looked defeated, staring at his back before quietly moving to stand beside him. She leaned forward to watch his face. Her hands grabbed the side of the counter as she looked.

"What's the matter?" She raised one hand to place on his arm.

He immediately withdrew from her touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "Tifa, I wish to be alone right now." He told her, turning so that he wouldn't have to look at her.

What did she do? Her heart leapt in her throat, and she swallowing to force it back down.

"Oh, alright." She nodded her head in understanding and turned to slowly walk away to finish the laundry.

--

He found her sitting on top of the washing machine, both knees pulled up to her chest. Her arms encircled them, staring off at the wall adjacent from her.

"Tifa?" The laundry cycle had finished a long time ago; he couldn't imagine why she was still in here.

Her head turned at the mention of her name, but she made no move to answer him.

Vincent took note of the way she was looking at him with an almost accusatory gaze.

"Shouldn't you put that load of laundry into the drier?" He asked, taking a few steps in her direction.

He was rewarded with an indecisive shrug, going back to her vacant stare at the wall.

Hm. Perhaps she was mad at him.

He moved quickly to stand before her, pulling her hands away from her knees. Tifa watched him suspiciously, allowing her legs to slide down and cradle the edge of the washing machine in the undersides of her knees.

Vincent clasped her hands in his own, placing them in her lap and sighed. "I did not intent to hurt your feelings, as I can tell I did. I simply needed some time to gather my thoughts."

She looked at their intertwined fingers, remaining silent.

This drew yet another soft sigh from Vincent. He supposed she was waiting for him to tell her just what he had been thinking about.

"Listen, Tifa. I've been thinking about this for quiet a long time. I have decided that it's time we -"

She abruptly pulled her hands from his, stopping him in mid sentence. She stared at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Quickly, she lowered her head and nodded. "You want to leave, don't you? This is just how Cloud told me" She shook her head, a sparkle of tears apparently in her eyes. "You're going to go just like he did."

"No, that wasn't -"

Tifa looked up to him, eyes shining now with the tears unshed. "I never thought there would be anyone but Cloud, and then you came in." A single tear slid down her cheek. "I can't do this twice -" Damn him.

Vincent's mouth crushed against hers, cutting off her sentence and any coherent thought she might have had. His hand came forward to cup her cheek, brushing away her tears that had fallen.

_Damn_ him.

He pulled back a few inches to watch as her eyes slowly fluttered open. "I am not about to leave." He resisted a smile as he saw a look of raw confusion and relief wash over her face.

"Then what -"

"You need to stop interrupting. It's going to get you into trouble one of these days." He smiled slightly as she lowered her eyes from his gaze, abashed. When she said nothing, he took it as his cue to continue.

"I was about to say I think it's time we told everyone about us." Vincent could tell he caught her off guard. But, whether that was good or bad, he hadn't the slightest clue.

"I believe Denzel and Marlene are beginning to suspect something. I would rather Barret hear it from us than from the two of them."

Tifa was staring at him like he had grown a second head. "Really?"

"Of course." He paused, hesitating over his next words. "I…love you."

She blinked slowly. Sure, she had told him countless times how she felt about him, but he had never said it in return, nor had she every expected him to. He had told her once that he'd never said it to a single person outside of his family, including Lucrecia.

A smile broke out on her face; a brilliant smile that gave him so much hope.

She pushed herself forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed him deeply, scooting forward on the surface of the washer.

Vincent's arms found her waist. He reluctantly pulled back for air as her legs wrapped around him as she moved to the edge.

"There's still time before Marlene and Denzel get home." He purred in her ear, savoring the way she shivered when he did so.

Tifa grinned up at him. "Hm, I suppose it will give me some laundry to do tomorrow."

Fin

A/N: I have one thing to say about this story: CRAP. I sincerely hate it and am only posting it to let everyone know I'm alive. I wrote this in like a two-day period during study hall while I was doing absolutely nothing (especially homework).

I'm slacking so badly on the fics it makes me horribly sad. I just want everyone to know that I have the next chapter of FR 99.999 percent done as well as three or four new chapters for new stories 99.99999999 percent done. The endings are killing me. ;-;

So, yeah.

Love me.


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